


Welcome to Dreamland

by RadiantSeraphina (Lady_Arrowwood)



Category: Hoshi no Kaabii | Kirby: Right Back at Ya!, Kirby (Video Games), Kirby - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2018-10-27 19:48:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10815540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Arrowwood/pseuds/RadiantSeraphina
Summary: Nightmare's most powerful demonbeast is a spoiled brat, who wants nothing more than to have friends and be normal. The wizard is at his wit's end until King Dedede of Dreamland calls, seeking a swordsman to serve as his royal guard and protect him from a potential assassin. Nightmare is sure that serving King Dedede will teach Meta how wonderful he's really had it, but of course, it doesn't go nearly that smoothly.





	1. Not Cute Enough

**Author's Note:**

> Sort of a weird conglomeration of the anime and the games and a serious plot, but mostly a comedic romp with Dedede and Meta Knight. It been on my computer forever, so I might as well get it out, right?

The scene wasn’t unfamiliar to the other demonbeasts, but they knew better than to linger. Their master was angry, so they swept past, quickly and silently, mere shadows against the base's steel and star-studded walls.

 

The Nightmare Wizard pulled his robes tightly against his sharp-angled form and sneered at Meta, the small puffball, at his feet. Shakily, Meta tried to stand upright, and Nightmare lazily released a burst of lightning towards the puffball. The energy sent Meta sprawling into a wall. He stumbled and fell first-face into the ground. Nightmare waited. “I’m only trying to make you strong,” Nightmare said. He got the tone just right—seductive and soft.

 

Meta coughed and shakily tried to lift himself up. “B—but I don’t want to be strong! I want your love and affection! I—I want friends! I want to be like other teenagers, and—”

 

Nightmare’s jaw clenched. What a little rat. “And how would you know what other adolescents are like?” Nightmare asked, trying to keep his voice smooth. “You’ve never met any.”

 

“But I can imagine! _Please_ —”

 

“I don’t _have_ to love you, you spoiled brat! Love is something you earn, Meta, and do you honestly believe your ungrateful behavior is going to—”

 

“But you used to love me! When I was a child, didn’t you love me?” Meta asked. “Why do you hate me now?”

 

The boy didn’t even bother to get off the floor. He just stared, and his eyes were so full of heartbreak and _please, please, just say you love me this one time._ Nightmare knew he could still salvage the situation if he really wanted to. It wouldn’t cost him anything. He could kneel beside Meta and pull him into a hug. He could apologize and say he’d just gotten carried away with the argument and that he really did love and had always loved Meta.

 

But that small moment of pity was followed by the urge to strike the boy again, to give him a reason for his tears, to punish him for his weakness. Nightmare was trying to raise a warrior, a creature capable of combatting the Galaxy Star Army. A creature capable to bringing entire galaxies to heel, and this was the fruit of all his labors? This was his great warrior? A spoiled brat that wanted to be like normal brats.

 

Nightmare dug his nails into his palms, resisting the urge to drag Meta across the floor and shred his wings as punishment. To make the child bleed more, to snap his bones, and leave him crying. The wizard pinched the bridge of his nose. “Don’t be absurd. Hating you would imply I cared strongly for you in any fashion. Clean yourself up and go to your room. I don’t want to see you for the rest of the day. Do I make myself clear?”

 

“Y-yes, Father.”

 

The Nightmare Wizard glided away, ignoring the dull grey that settled over Meta’s eyes and the way he slumped his wings against the ground. And if he heard Meta’s muffled sobs, the wizard gave no indication. Stupid, useless, weak child. Nightmare closed his eyes and sighed. He needed a distraction, and one came in Customer Service’s voice drifting down the hall.

 

Nightmare strode into the room, where Customer Service was speaking with a client over a massive telescreen. “An’ I want ‘em to look easy on the eyes cause I’m gonna have to look at ‘em a lot! And I ain’t gonna look at someone hideous every day!” The drawling voice and mangled syntax made Nightmare want to shove a dull knife in his ears.

 

The screen showed the speaker—a fat, blue-feathered penguin-creature, adorned in regal attire—lounging on his gilded and scarlet throne and idly flipping through one of NME’s catalogues.

 

“Understandable, Triple-D,” Customer Service said, in a tone dripping with forced civility. “But I really think—”

 

“Well, I ain’t getting nowhere with you! I wanna speak to your manager!”

 

“I’m afraid Lord Nightmare—”

 

Nightmare glided forward. “Just one moment,” he said, before unceremoniously muting the pompous penguin on the line.

 

The penguin-creature’s face became affronted, and if the fast movements of his beak were any indication, he was shouting. “Who is that fool?” Nightmare asked.

 

“Are you familiar with Pop Star?” Customer Service replied, pinching the bridge of his nose. “They’re one of our newer customers—small planet, but good resources?”

 

“Vaguely.”

 

“There’s a kingdom on Pop Star called Dreamland. Their previous king—who did a good amount of business with us and was very…ah, eager to exert his power—died, and apparently, this fool just…declared himself king, and the people accepted it.”

 

If Nightmare was dumbfounded, he hid it well. “Is he even an adult?” Nightmare asked. “He looks young.”

 

“Yes, but barely. Probably close to Meta’s age. And this king acts like a young brat that’s suddenly been given a lot of power,” Customer Service replied. “He’s convinced that someone is trying to kill him and wants protection, but nothing is _good enough_. I’ve had him on-call for three hours or more. He put me on hold while he debated over what to eat for dinner. He’s infuriating, and the only reason I’ve persisted is because this planet is _very_ abundant in resources. It’d be a great addition to your empire, my Lord.”

 

“Not good enough?” Nightmare narrowed his eyes.

 

“He wants a swordsman.”

 

Nightmare stared at Customer Service for a long moment. “Bugzzy.”

 

“He isn’t cute enough,” Customer Service replied. “Or bright enough, or a good enough conversationalist.”

 

Nightmare stared at the screen in bewilderment. “Not _cute_ enough,” he echoed. “I thought this fool was worried about his safety. Why does it matter if the person defending him is _cute_?”

 

“I don’t know. He also requests that this person have a quick wit and be able to keep him on his toes. He insists it matters because he’s going to be spending significant amounts of time with this person, so they must be…tolerably attractive at least.”

 

The penguin-king had grabbed the screen and was prodding it with his beak, evidently trying to discern whether or not Nightmare and Customer Service were still there. “What a—” Nightmare paused.

 

_Oh._

Oh, this was too convenient, too good to pass up. Nightmare had the most _wonderful_ idea of how to torment this obnoxious, self-proclaimed king and kill Meta’s defiance and self-righteousness all at once. Surely, after dealing with this self-centered, ineffectual oaf, Meta would realize how good it really was serving Lord Nightmare. He’d return as doting and obedient as Nightmare remembered Meta once being. With a haughty laugh, the wizard pressed the button. “Dear King of Dreamland, I have the _perfect_ swordsman for you. I promise you won’t be disappointed.”

 

 


	2. Not Smart Enough

Meta woke slowly. He felt strange and sluggish. Unnatural. Waking wasn’t typically so difficult for him, so this was exceedingly odd. He raised his head and blinked blearily at his blankets. They were pink. Why were they pink? Meta groaned and rubbed his paw across his forehead. There was a strange pressure in his head; it didn’t hurt but wasn’t very comfortable.

 

_Where…am I?_

A small, cream and orange creature with dark eyes stared at him. What was it? It looked like a plush toy. Meta unsheathed his wings and growled lowly.

 

The creature waddled away. Odd.

 

Meta closed his eyes and called his magic to him. The world around him rippled and shimmered. He felt the tiny tears between dimensions and the light of the stars, but it wasn’t what he felt that worried him. It was what he didn’t feel—the soothing and gentle darkness of the Nightmare Wizard.

 

Meta opened his eyes. A shard of ice seemed to have pierced his belly. What could possibly hide his creator’s presence? Nothing as far as he knew. Unless Meta was very far away.

 

“Yer awake!”

 

Meta winced as the booming voice split the air. The feel in Meta’s head _definitely_ went beyond uncomfortable. Now, it definitely hurt. In the doorway, there stood a _massive,_ blue bird of some sort. Meta blinked a few times to be sure he wasn’t imagining the appearance of this strange bird. Obviously, Meta had seen many strange creatures and demon beasts in his day but none like this…thing. It looked fluffy and pudgy. Utterly harmless, aside from its massive bulk. Still, Meta knew that looks could be deceiving. This creature might be a great warrior. With a growl, Meta spread his wings, posturing to show he wasn’t one to be trifled with.

 

“D’Lady! Yer a cutie, ain’t ya?”

 

A cutie? A _cutie_? Meta puffed out his cheeks. His face warmed, and he knew his blush-marks must’ve been bright pink. How _dare_ this blue, feathered thing call him _a cutie_? Meta was a fierce warrior! A creature of dignity and ferocity, born of stardust and dark magic!

 

“Oh, you’re even more cute when you’re all flustered!”

 

“I am _not_ cute! I am a mighty warrior.”

 

The bird-creature moved to the edge of the bed, seemingly undeterred by Meta’s attempts at intimidation. “Yeah! I know ya is! That’s why I requested ya an’ all, but—”

 

Requested him?

 

“—but it helps that you’re such a cutie!”

 

“What do you mean _requested me_?”

 

“Oh, Nightmare didn’ tell ya?”

 

Nightmare. Meta’s stomach twisted. No. No, surely, Nightmare hadn’t.

 

“Tell me what?”

 

“What you’re doin’ here! What’d you do? Jus’ agree without gettin’ all the details? Y’know, I think we’re gonna get ‘long splendidly! I like surprises, too!”

 

Meta started as the bird-creature pulled him into an uncomfortably warm embrace. “Um…what happened?” Meta Knight asked.

 

“Whatcha you mean?”

 

“My head hurts.”

 

“Oh, that! Nightmare said ya had a poor reaction to the transport! Happens, I guess.”

 

It _didn’t_ happen. All the pieces were beginning to fit together. His creator had _sold_ him. Sure, Nightmare sold the demon beasts’ services all the time, but he’d never sold _Meta_. And Meta had always thought the Nightmare Wizard only sold the demon beasts who wanted to go out and cause chaos.

 

Meta hadn’t wanted to go. He hadn't agreed to this, and the fuzzy almost-pain in his head made him wonder if Nightmare had drugged him. Drugged him and transported him to this strange place. Meta's breath hitched.

 

His creator had sold him. Meta had always been Nightmare’s favorite, and he’d just been cast aside so frivolously.

 

This was probably a punishment. Just a temporary punishment. Not a forever sort of thing. But—

 

But Nightmare had just sold him. Like a _pet_. Like property. The wizard had really gone that far.

 

Meta felt numb. “And what am I supposed to do for you?” he asked.

 

“Oh, I…uh, I think someone’s plannin’ on assassinating me, so I need someone to find out the plot an’ keep me safe an’ what-not! Nightmare said you’s the bestest, cutest, and wittiest swordsman he has!” the bird-creature declared, puffing out his chest. “An’ I paid a lotta money for you!”

 

Great. Fantastic.

 

Had this bird-creature _known_ that Meta hadn’t wanted to do this? Meta slowly lowered his wings. If this bird-creature had knowingly purchased an unwilling creature to accomplish this task, Meta hated him. But Meta also knew that it would be like Nightmare to leave out a few details.

 

“So I need to find this assassin, and once I do, I’m finished,” Meta said slowly.

 

The bird-creature nodded eagerly and bounced up and down. “Yep! An’ that means we gotta spend lots a time together! ‘Cause, I’m real smart but not smart enough to beat this assassin on my own!”

 

“Right.”

 

“Name’s Dedede, by the way! King Dedede!” The king’s paw burst forward with a startling amount of energy.

 

Hesitantly, Meta shook the proffered paw. “Meta,” he said.

 

This wouldn’t be too hard, right? All Meta had to do was find this assassin. Then, Dedede wouldn’t want him any longer, and Meta could return home.

 

Return home and tread softly, so this never, _ever_ happened again.

 

 


End file.
